So sorry that Sixth Chamber closed for good today.
Here are two bookmarks. One is from the mid 90s, the other from the late 90s. These two are from my envelope of on-deck bookmarks. Many more are scattered throughout my library, tucked in books, waiting to be rediscovered.
“You can argue opinions, but you can’t argue facts.”
This may, under some limited set of circumstances, be a true statement, but it assumes that a fact is something that we would all agree on if only we were sufficiently informed.
But facts are a byproduct of context. Facts are not discrete packets of truth, sharply defined and clearly demarcated from their surroundings. And a fact which we can all agree upon is the most useless and least interesting fact of all.
Another problem is that it sets up a polarity: it implies that facts and opinions are all there is, that they are the only two states of, well, I guess I’ll call it reality. But what of perceptions? You could, I suppose, say a perception is a form of opinion — but just because I can find many people to confirm what I perceive, and once we all agree and reach a consensus, then it’s a fact, right? Well…
Lastly, the statement sounds as though facts are more important than opinions; that facts finish the argument. But all too often, they begin the argument. Facts are often the least interesting thing a person can talk or argue about.
52: Shenandoah (Maple)
53: Clandestine (A)
(I apparently missed taking a succession picture of 51 to 52.)
Being shy, an introvert, an HSP, and having social anxiety are four quite distinct (if sometimes related and overlapping) states.
Using the term “introvert” to refer to all four does a disservice to each, and can be confusing to folks who are none, or only one, of these.
And none of them are the same as being “anti-social.”
Joyce asked about morning pages. Turns out I’m feeling chatty this morning. So.
Despite some big differences in goal and method, I think of morning pages as a focussed subset of journalling, so I believe there’s considerable overlap in how to build each into a habit.
I’ve been journalling fairly consistently for about twenty years (and sporadically for some years before that). From late 1999 to early 2004, I exclusively used an ongoing Tex-Edit Plus document on my Mac. In 2004, I transitioned over to a notebook & pen/pencil, and I’ve been all-longhand ever since.
About four or five years ago (right around the time I first learned of morning pages, actually), I split it into morning page “journaling” with a “logbook” in the evenings. I started the “logbook” because I was getting frustrated that my journal entries were often derailed by dwelling too much on all sorts of daily “surface” things (what I ate, what I did, where I went). Instead of seeing the daily stuff as a distraction from writing about the “important” things, I honored it by giving it a separate braindump all to itself.
This gave me permission to skip over all that quotidian stuff as I journalled, and to move onto the next “layer” down — opinions, impressions, preoccupations, fears, rants, etc.
The therapeutic aspect of morning pages is at least partly about giving those “inner characters” of your psyche — the ones with the uncomfortable, unpopular, or fragile opinions — a chance to have their say in a safe, contained space. This can be very hard, and the “rest” of you may put up a lot of resistance — like wanting to give up simply because you “can’t” make it to three pages, or your handwriting is too “ugly,” or any of a million other excuses…
If you find you’re faced with a lot of internal resistance, Julia Cameron, of the Artist’s Way, suggests deleting the document or shredding the pages right after you finish writing. That way, you have an ironclad retort to the inner voice that’s so peevish about spelling and handwriting, and to the inner voice that’s worried that anyone will see your horrible terrible shameful thoughts.
I try to be very forgiving of the “rules.” The original Artist’s Way morning pages are supposed to be three pages, longhand, period. Well, sure. But as Robertson Davies says, “Forgive yourself for being a human creature.”
Habits are often built from whatever’s already convenient and easily available (that’s why most habits are “bad” habits). So if an iPad keyboard is more convenient than a moleskine and a pen, then okay. And if you find you have a 10- or 20-minute block of time right before bed rather than in the morning, then go for it. If you don’t always write three whole pages, that’s okay, too.
Make it your own, let it be what it needs to be, rather than what you’ve been told it’s supposed to be.
If a thing is worth doing, it’s worth doing badly.
writingI still haven’t watched Mad Men all the way through, but my wife has, and her reaction to the finale was very similar to @janwillem’s reaction.
This reminded me of a comment I posted in a long-lost forum or comment thread somewhere, just after the episode had aired and was generating a lot of heated talk, with comparisons to other iconic TV finales. This was my own hot take. Enjoy:
INT. BEDROOM. DARK.
Sounds of a man waking from a bad dream.
LIGHTS UP.
Don Draper is in bed next to Suzanne Pleshette.
He looks around room, bewildered.
On the dresser, he sees snow globe with a miniature hospital inside.
Hitman walks in from master bathroom, stepping over many balled-up white socks that spell the word “GOODBYE”.
BLACKOUT.
MUSIC OVER CREDITS:
“It’s a Long Way to Tipperary.”
